


Journey of a King

by historicandpatriotic



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Action, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Clint Has Issues, Disability, F/M, Hurt Bucky Barnes, M/M, Modern Royalty, Physical Disability, Romance, Royalty, Soldiers, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 17:49:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9914012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historicandpatriotic/pseuds/historicandpatriotic
Summary: Being an ex-soldier isn't the life that Bucky had thought he was going to be leading yet –– especially in his current situation. But after his nosey friends and ex-unit help him to begin to break out of his civilian shell, Bucky finds that a new job-role is open for the taking and it just so happens to be with America's Royal Family. More specifically, the Prince, who Bucky finds is strangely down to earth and practical for a fella that grew up at the top of the social food chain.Prince Steven Rogers is a politically minded upcoming monarch that somehow manages to find friends in his bodyguard's ex-comrades. Raising into his role as monarch was always going to be a challenge for him, he'd known as much since he was a child but when the time is actually upon him will Steve follow his head and gut with how he believes his country should be run or will he crumble under the pressure of the crown? After all, he really hadn't known all that his father had known about his country and the choices that had been made to keep it safe.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I thought I'd try this out and let my muse take me for a little ride. I'd love to know what you guys think and whether it's worth continuing this. I haven't written anything at length in a while so we'll see how this goes! Thank you for taking the time to read and I'll get working on another part to the story!
> 
> Please leave a comment at the end and let me know your thoughts.

“You know, Natasha, you _can_ sit down.”

Steve had been in his office, a dark wood and book shelf lined room with large windows and deep emerald curtains that allowed light to cast itself over his darkwood desk, for the past hour looking over proposals that had come to his attention. The current monarchy, consisting of his father and mother; Joseph and Sarah, ruled their country in a way that allowed the government to do as they please. The monarchy had become more of a _novelty_ and a tourist attraction at the hand of his father. Joseph had taken a step back in his role as king and allowed his country to become a democracy rather than being under one governing rule. Though, of course, there was an elected individual in charge of the country, the royal family tended to simply exist to make appearances and appease the paparazzi.

Being next in line for the throne and the only child to the current monarchy, Steve had made the conscious decision to be more involved in his country’s well being. Though he appreciated what his father had done over the years, Steve knew that he would choose another way to rule the country when his time came to wear the crown. He often disagreed with his father about what role they should be taking and their involvement in their country. Steve often elicited anger from his father on the matter.

His eyes had turned toward his bodyguard of over two years, a slim redheaded russian woman, only three or so years older than he was. A cheeky smile made its way onto Steve’s face, blonde hair shining in the light of the office and eyes betraying him for his approaching teasing.

“I’m certain that someone _won’t_ jump out of the woodwork and kill me while you’re sitting in the same room as me.”

Certain as he was, Steve knew that Natasha took her job and Steve’s safety seriously, which was why more often than not, she could be found standing to attention –– unless Steve pointed out the fact that he was perfectly safe. Being the only two people in the room, Steve wagered that the situation was fairly safe. An eyebrow quirked as the redhead’s green eyes flicked to her charge and an answering smirk made its way onto her lips. Natasha looked smug as she stood with her hands at the small of her back, clasped at ease, stood near the entrance of the room as she was; which was currently blocked by a closed solid dark wood door.

“You’d think that, but I know at least two people that could shoot at you through _that_ window and make their mark without being anywhere _near_ this room.” She paused, motioning with her chin to the window in question, letting her words sink into Steve’s head. He served only to raise both his eyebrows at her information before she grinned at him in turn. “Thankfully both of them are good friends of mine and they’re not the type for Royal assassination.” The latter sounded nonchalant as she finally moved from her position at the door, her hips swaying naturally as she made her way to one of the chairs in front of Steve’s desk and artfully draped herself in it, crossing one leg over the other with her hands on the arms of the plush chair.

“If you mean Clint, then I’m glad we’re _friends_. I guess his aim can’t really be impaired by his hearing, huh?”

Natasha’s answering smile was lopsided. She always seemed at ease in any situation that she was thrown into, but then, maybe that was normal for Russian ex-soldiers. Steve had met his fair share of soldiers in his time –– but none like Natasha. He knew that his bodyguard was something extraordinary. After all, she could take a man out in a mere second –– he’d seen her do it first hand. The King, Steve’s father, would never have agreed on her employ if she hadn’t been amazing. And really, Steve only knew that she was special ops, but not what she had been doing with her team. Steve knew he was due to find out. He was at an age where he needed to be trained to think like a King, should anything happen to his father. Not that anyone saw King Joseph becoming ill but precautions had to be put in place. So for now, Steve was simply left wondering what Natasha had seen in her life and why it was classified to some of the highest clearance known to man.

Steve, with Natasha’s blessing, had offered Barton a job on more than one occasion, only for Clint to laugh and tell him that he was happy being a pizza boy. Who actually enjoyed delivering pizza’s for a living when they had been trained as a marksman for years on end? Steve didn’t know, but he couldn’t get Barton to budge on the matter so he left it down to Natasha to wear him down. He was under the understanding that they were living together.

Green eyes rolled and a huff left the Russian’s lips, only serving to allow Steve into just how annoyed she was with her roommate at his refusal of the position. “ _Nyet_ . He’s trying to lead a civilian life. _Trying_ being the operative word here, Rogers. He thinks that sitting at home all day with that dog of his and looking after my cat is going to make him get used to life out of service. Obviously, I keep telling him he’s an idiot…”

“But he isn’t going to admit it. He has to work it out for himself.” Steve replied, leaning his large frame back in his chair, and offered Natasha a smile of what he considered to be friendship. After all, Natasha was one of the very few people that treated Steve as just a person. She put Steve in his place if she thought he was being an idiot, smack talked with him and didn’t pay much attention to any of the _Royal_ formalities unless it was necessary to the time. Honestly, Steve looked at her as the little sister he’d never had and he was pretty sure that Natasha knew how fond of her Steve was.

“Like I said –– idiot.” She summarised, shrugging her shoulders. “Then again, I have two idiots in my life and both of them are as stupid as each other.” Steve’s eyes scanned Natasha’s face for a moment before deciding that she would talk about it if she wanted to. He was fairly certain that she meant the _other_ marksman, though, and _not_ Steve himself.

“Honestly, I’ve never had anyone know so much about my security or day to day activity and not be a security risk. I’m pretty sure that if my father found out, he’d either give Barton an offer he couldn’t refuse or have him killed. From what you both have told me, he’s great at what he did. It’s just a matter of security –– and I think he’d be great at working for us.”

Steve had been rubbing at the back of his neck as he spoke and Natasha snorted with his words. “He might be an idiot but we _both_ know that Clint can keep a secret. We worked together. Plus, he likes you. He’s not gonna share information with anyone, other than to tell me what your guards are doing wrong. Once he admits he’s bored, he’ll come running quietly.”

Holding back the urge to roll his eyes, Steve smiled fondly. The idea that the offer that Clint had received from Steve for said job was inevitable was amusing. He had no doubt, from what he had learnt over the small time he had gotten to know Clint Barton, that he would do just as Natasha said. That didn’t make it any less amusing to him.

They were both smiling as the rap of knuckles sounded on the door. Natasha couldn’t have been too concerned with who it was, considering she remained in her seat and only turned her head to acknowledge said person as Steve called out a greeting for them to enter. Pepper, Steve’s strawberry blonde haired secretary and personal assistant, walked through the door. Her sensible black heels clicked as she stepped inside, closing the door behind her. A small smile was on her face as she stood, holding her usual clipboard, her ponytail neatly tied high on her head to keep her hair out of her face as she worked. Pepper’s lips twisted then, in a small amount of annoyance, though her eyes shone with amusement as she spoke.

“Your cousin, the Duke of Washington, would like me to remind you that he will be collecting you at six to take you for pre-drinks, for your night out.”

Natasha smirked as Steve quirked an eyebrow, knowing exactly what his cousin was like. He also knew that those could have been the only things that his cousin had said, considering he could have simply text or called Steve himself.  “Was that _all_ that he said?”

Pepper smiled and rolled her eyes fondly, “Is that _ever_ all that comes out of Tony’s mouth?”

Steve laughed as Natasha rolled her eyes. “That man needs a mental and verbal filter. How he has a reputation within the Royal family at this point is beyond me.” The russian’s lips twitched as she spoke. It happened more often than not that Natasha found herself getting Tony out of trouble far more than Steve –– which wasn’t her job but Steve appreciated it all the same. Tony’s bodyguard and long-time friend, Rhody, was ex-marines and often had his hands full with the Duke. Thank God that Tony had never managed to find himself next in line for the throne. Who knew what would happen to America with Tony in charge. The words Prima Nocta flashed in Steve’s mind and he grimaced internally.

In fairness, for a Duke, Tony had been dealt a pretty bad hand. His parents had died when he was young and Tony had spent a majority of his time with nannies and tutors, or alone. He had stayed with Steve and his family but Steve had been a frail and sickly child who wasn’t exactly a bundle of fun and the Queen, Steve’s mother; Sarah, had often been with Steve, not allowing him to run around for fear of Steve having a severe asthma attack. Steve remembered Tony’s father, Howard, more than his wife. Remembering the man for his charming demeanor and his moustache. That was _all_ that he remembered, though. Steve had spent more time with his mother than near his own father back then and Howard was most often seen with his father.

Scratching at the back of his neck, Steve glanced over at Natasha. “My father allows his behaviour because he’s not in line for the throne and he feels guilty for Tony’s upbringing. If that was _my_ behaviour, I think he’d threaten to debar me from succession.”

An unladylike snort left the Russian before she smirked, “I don’t think that’s the only thing that His Majesty would do to you if that was your behaviour.”

They nodded amongst themselves for a moment, the knowledge of Tony’s running list of indiscretions in each of their minds. “I’ll be awaiting his arrival, Miss Potts.” Steve replied, nodding to her in thanks. Pepper smiled in return and backed out of the room, closing the door behind her, at which point Steve sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face before looking to Natasha once again. “Are you ready for tonight?”

“I think the better question is whether _you’re_ ready for tonight.” She retorted with an amused smirk. They both knew exactly how the night was going to go with Tony around. As much as Steve loved his cousin, he was a constant magnet for trouble and attention. It didn’t matter where they were, the paparazzi would find them and there would certainly be photographic evidence in the tabloids the next day. Somehow Steve could never find himself saying no to Tony whenever he informed the Prince that he was coming on a night out. Steve only wished Tony could be slightly better behaved –– but then he wouldn’t be Tony.

Shaking his head, Steve stacked his papers, filing them away in the locked drawer of his desk and straightened up the stationery that he had been using. “Not in the least but at least I’ll have you, Clint and Rhody to help keep him in order.”

A snort came from the redhead and Steve stood, knowing what she was going to say. “Like that will help. We’re in for one hell of a night, Rogers.”

He couldn't help the smile that took to his lips as Natasha stood, ready to move from the room with him, once again taking up her role as his bodyguard. “Just try not to let Clint get video evidence this time.”

 

***

 

“Tell me you’re not watching that daytime television _garbage_ again, Barnes.”

Clint’s eyebrows rose from an exasperated scowl into something that expressed that he expected a solid excuse. Bucky, civilian for a grand total of six hundred days –– give or take a few days he perhaps hadn’t counted; because there were _likely_ to be days that had merged into others in the first few months –– moved his gaze momentarily from the daytime chat show that he _had_ been watching before Clint brought his rude ass into his parents house, over to his friend –– who _clearly_ had a prejudice against all things daytime tv and had been giving Bucky shit about it ever since he’d been discharged from medical supervision some four hundred and eighty days previous. _That_ count was accurate, at least.

“I don’t know why you watch that stuff. Are you _trying_ to melt your brain, is that it? ‘Cause I think you’re going the right way about it, if so, man.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky picked up the remote control for the television and flicked it onto mute before fixing Clint with his gaze again. “Happy now? What the hell do you want ––– and where’s your dog?”

It was a well known fact that Clint tended not to travel alone anymore. After Clint had adopted his dog, that had been dubbed ‘ _Pizza Dog’_ because it tended to go along with Clint on his pizza rounds, he had been known to travel around with his canine companion more often than not. The two were practically inseparable –– unless Talia’s cat was around ‘cause that thing was _evil_. Then of course, it was every man for himself. Natalia thought it was amusing. Bucky thought that it was kind of sad that they had to hide in their own home just to keep Talia’s evil cat away.

_That_ was one of the many reason’s that Bucky kept turning the pair down on their offer for him to take the third bedroom in their apartment. That and the fact that his ma and pa tended to let him get away with crap that Barton and Talia called him out on.

“Lucky’s out the back in your parent’s yard.” Came Clint’s response as he moved from the doorway to the couch, dropping down onto the nearest available space and started to fiddle with one of his ear pieces, making a face as he did.

Bucky made a face at the idea of Lucky being in the yard and pointed the remote warningly at his friend. “I’m not cleaning up your dog’s poop again, pal. I’m just gonna put that out there.”

Clint’s brows raised and he smirked, “You cleaned up dog shit?” A chuckle left his friend and Clint shook his head, leaving his hearing aid alone. “How long did that take? Wait, did you use your good arm or your bad –– cause you’d be cheating if you used your right.”

Narrowing his eyes, Bucky grumbled. “Yeah well I’m a fucking cheater, what do you want? It took me an hour to clean up with my left hand. Next time, I’ll use my right and it’ll take five minutes.” As he spoke his left hand moved, flexing in and out of a fist, scar tissue and grafts stretching and pulling painfully as he spoke. His left arm was a piece of shit and they all knew it. The muscles were shot to bits and the whole thing from the shoulder downward looked like it was a plastic surgeon’s nightmare. There were dips, and crevices in strange places, his elbow fought him whenever he attempted to make the thing move anything close to ninety degrees and the thing had received so many grafts and surgeries that it would have just been kinder to cut the thing off. Bucky was certain he’d have preferred if it had been cut off. At least then he wouldn’t constantly be in pain from the thing.

On his last op Bucky had found himself on the ass end of a bad explosion which had only caught a little of his left side, leaving with it a few burns but had completely mutilated his left arm. Muscle and flesh was missing in half a dozen different places and the burn itself was so severe that Bucky had _begged_ for them to cut it off when he’d regained consciousness. Instead what they’d done is they had saved his arm with a ton of grafts and reconstructive surgeries that he hadn’t wanted and had put him into a physio programme that had only caused him to have a mental break from the pain he’d been experiencing from the crippled limb. _That_ was why he was unsure about the first few months of being discharged from his job. Can’t go back into the field when you’ve got PTSD and an arm that won’t work on a good day.

Not that Bucky’s really _tried_ with the thing. He just gets frustrated with it and then uses his good arm for whatever task it is he’s trying to accomplish. He’s getting better at it though, he thinks. Just not as fast as he’d like. Suffice to say, he’s never getting back into the service again. And when he thinks to all he was, his rank and all that he had made to get himself as far as he had –– he was one of the best damn marksmen in his unit and he worked with some amazing soldiers.

Now look at him –– watching daytime television shows and bitching at his friend about his dog’s poop. Ah, what a life.

“How’s the pizza delivery life?” He asked, changing the subject from his crippled limb and directing it at Clint, who couldn’t really talk about Bucky watching daytime tv seeing as he was wasting his perfectly healthy body on being a delivery driver. What Bucky would give to be hard of hearing instead of physically impaired as he was.

“How’s your social life?” Clint shot back, looking at him challengingly. “Seriously man, why don’t you come out with me and Tash tonight? Trust me, you’ll have one _hell_ of a night.”

“And watch you two get drunk while I’m still on pain meds? No thanks.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “As if that’s stopped you having a couple beers. Come on, Barnes. I _guarantee_ you an entertaining night. When have I ever let you down?”

Bucky made a face, shoving his productless hair out of his eyes before raising an eyebrow. “I don’t know, Hawk, you’ve done some pretty questionable shit over the years.”

“Yeah, yeah and you’ve _always_ had a good time. Come on. It’s one night out and Tash will be on a job anyway so we can’t get _that_ drunk...”

“She’s gonna be working while we drink? Oh, m’sure that will keep Captain _real_ safe.” Bucky retorted, rolling his eyes. He’d heard a lot about who Talia worked for over the last year or so and he’d been shaking his head over quite a few of them. For the role she was in, both Bucky and Clint knew enough to be security risks to her charge and yet, neither of them were in the business for murder. Well, not _anymore_ , anyway. He didn’t give Clint a chance to whine again. Instead he sighed and pushed his right hand through his hair again. “If I give in will you get off of my case and go clean up your dog’s poop?”

A grin appeared on Clint's face and he clapped Bucky on the shoulder affectionately, “That’s the spirit, Barnes! And _yes_ , I’ll clean up my dog’s crap –– but only because you agreed to come out. Tonight just got to be the best night of the year so far.” His words only strove to worry Bucky more about what was actually going to happen and as he watched Clint go outside to call in his dog and clean up after him, Bucky decided that he was better off not knowing what he had just gotten himself into.


End file.
